Chapter XXIV: "I Thee Wed."

The golden month of September saw Viola much improved in health. Her wound had healed nicely, thanks to her strong constitution and to the care she had received from the physician and nurse. Now she was rapidly convalescing, and as the fine autumn days went by she was able to ride in her carriage, and even visit the mission school, though unable to teach her class of girls.

By Christmas time the roses had indeed reappeared in her cheeks, and her step was almost as elastic as ever. June found her fully restored to health. This month was to be forever memorable to her, for her wedding to Jasper Very was set for the eighteenth day.

The whole plantation was in a fever of excitement quite a while before the event was to transpire. All was bustle and commotion. Every one seemed to have a personal interest in the affair. The slaves talked and sang about it as they worked in the fields, and renewed the gossip in the evening around their cabin doors.

Aunt Nancy, the cook, attired in a dress spotlessly clean, a bright red bandanna tied around her head, was more pompous and dictatorial than ever. Her helpers had been increased for the event, and she issued her commands with a force which would have done credit to a skipper on a quarter-deck. Often she scolded those around her, but her anger was more apparent than real, and while she smote right and left with one hand, with the other soon after she patted and petted the object of her wrath.

To her children: "You, Dick and Jim, git away frum under my feet. If yo' little niggers don't cl'ar out frum dis room, ah'll beat yer wooly heads togedder. How kin Ah see dat dis cake gits jest de right brown, if yo' keep askin' me fer cookies an' things! Take dat--boxing their ears--an' march out doors."

The boys ducked a second blow, and rushing into the yard, each turned a somersault, and grinned the content he felt. Then they began to sing:

"O Miss Lu! sugar in 'er shoe,
Show me de hole whar de hog jump fru."

For days the preparations for the marriage feast went on. Such baking, boiling, and every form of cooking, was never seen in "Mount Pisgah" before.

Judge and Madam LeMonde had many things to occupy hand and brain, but still they gave much thought to the time when they should be parted from their only daughter. She and George were the idols of their hearts. To lose one from the home even to gain a preacher-son was an experience bringing pain and sorrow. Still their judgment confirmed the step; for, if they were to have the sadness of separation, they were to have the deep satisfaction of giving their daughter to a greater service.

Miss Viola was busy most of the time preparing her trousseau. Many of the garments were made to order in Lexington, but much fancy work on delicate fabrics was done by the bride-to-be.

The great day dawned at last. A holiday had been given to all the slaves on the plantation. The Judge decided to spare no expense in making the occasion as pleasant as possible. He had instructed his black people to have a barbecue at their quarters. Some of our readers are benighted as to the meaning of that great word. How shall we enlighten their ignorance? Words are insufficient to set forth the joy and glory of this feast. We may try our best, but much must be left unrecorded.

Two very long wooden tables were stretched on the ground behind the slaves' cabins, under the splendid natural forest trees which Kentucky boasted. The day before an ox was killed, and a deep pit dug in the ground. Early on the eighteenth, the ox was suspended in this hole and a great fire lighted under the carcass. There for hours the body roasted in its own fat. Besides the ox, succulent roasting pigs were cooked whole, chickens were prepared in various ways. All vegetables common to the season were gotten ready in unlimited abundance. Bread enough for all and much to spare appeared on the tables. Pies and cakes of many kinds lay in beautiful companionship with the other good things. Steaming coffee in abundance for all was on hand. And plenty of "Adam's ale"--pure spring water.

This barbecue feast was to be eaten after the marriage ceremony was performed.

The wedding feast for the white folks was spread on tables which had been placed under the pine trees some distance east of the great mansion. It was impossible to accommodate all the invited guests in the dining-room of the house, and Viola decided to have the dinner served in the open air under the trees. As to the quality and quantity of this feast it is only necessary to say that Aunt Dinah and her satellites had been preparing it for days, and the proud cook was intending to stake her reputation as to ability on it for all time to come. The result was worthy of the effort she had made.

On the morning of the eighteenth came the great event. Let us try to picture the scene. It was to be an open air wedding. Viola had requested that all the colored people be permitted to witness the ceremony. There were hundreds of them, big and little, old and young. They were disposed by Mose and others under the pine trees nearest to the river.

Grouped nearer to the mansion were the members of the mission school, many planters and their families, some guests from Lexington and other places. Just by the pavement in front of the piazza a chair had been provided for Madam LeMonde.

The principals in the ceremony were in a bedroom upstairs.

And now the strains of a wedding march floats out over the great company, played by a pianist from Paducah.

With slow and measured step the wedding party descend the broad stairway. We see Susanna Spink walking before. In her hand is a basket of magnificent roses. These with leaves of others she strews in the way before the approaching persons.

First come George LeMonde, best man, and Miss Stella Nebeker, bridesmaid, with her arm linked in his. Then follow arm in arm Rev. Jasper Very, bridegroom, and Rev. John Larkin, the officiating minister. In the rear we behold the lovely bride, Miss Viola LeMonde, beautifully dressed, leaning upon the arm of her father, Judge LeMonde. Under the shadow of the pine trees, near the piazza, the wedding company take position, and the ceremony begins.

The minister asks: "Who gives the bride away?" The Judge replies: "I give the bride away," and he walks to the rear while the bride steps to the side of the bridegroom. The ceremony, brief but most impressive, is conducted according to the ritual of the church, and the minister solemnly pronounces them husband and wife.

Presently the black people under the leadership of Mose and others go to their quarters to enjoy the great barbecue feast. The white people are invited to take seats around the loaded tables placed under the pines trees. As we glance over the company we behold many kind friends whom we have met in the course of this narrative. A large number from the mission school were there, including the whole Spink family, and some members of the Sneath and Wiles families. They were under the care of Miss Henrietta Harvey, who was now their capable and devoted superintendent.

Jolly Costello Nebeker and his good lady were present. He seemed to thrive in every way by running his tavern on cold water principles. His hearty, hilarious laugh was as contagious as the measles. Honest David Hester and his folks were given seats near the head of the table. The other planters were also well represented: Abner Hunt, the fiery little man from down river, and Hans Schmidt, the large, fair-faced German, with several others. Hiram Sanders, the herculean blacksmith of Bridgewater, had a place at the table.

When the great feast was nearly over and ices were being served, Judge LeMonde arose and thus spoke: "Dear friends, I do not wish to interrupt the meal, neither do I wish to make a speech, only to say that Madam LeMonde and myself count this one of the greatest days of our lives. It surely has a tinge of sorrow in it but the joy far surpasses the sadness. I am very glad indeed to behold you enjoying the felicities of the occasion. There is a bit of the program to take place that nobody on the grounds knows anything about except Mrs. LeMonde and myself. I request at this time that my son George go to the slaves' gathering and bring back with him my servant Mose."

Without a moment's hesitation George started to do the errand his father asked. By the time the ices had disappeared the white man and the black man came on to the lawn. A look of curiosity and wonder passed over the company, and all gazed in the direction of the Judge and his servant.

As to Mose he was much taken aback. He appeared confused and bewildered. He thought it was not possible that his master would blame him for neglecting some duty or doing a bad deed on such a day and before such a company.

The Judge, calling his servant to come near, arose and said: "I have decided on this memorable occasion to repay in some measure the devotion and sacrifice of a very faithful and trustworthy servant. I have found Mose honest, obedient, kind, and always willing to do his part of the work. More than this he has risked his life to protect his young mistress from falling into the hands of desperate outlaws. Because of this heroic endeavor I have decided, Mose, to set you free. I hold in my hand the paper properly made out, and from this hour you are free to go where you will. But we do not want to lose you from the plantation. If you stay, I will pay you suitable wages for your work. I will also give you three acres of good land near the negroes' quarters and will build a nice frame house upon it. I am sure my daughter Viola will be glad to furnish the house as a reward for the service you rendered her. In due time you can bring the young woman to whom you are engaged to the house as your bride.

"What do you say, Mose, will you go or stay?"

The poor black man was almost too overcome with emotion to answer a word. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he could scarcely stand. However, he managed to say: "Mas'r LeMonde, how kin Ah thank you fur yo' kindness! Leave you an' dis plantation? Not while de sun shines in de heavens. As Ah was willin' to die fer Miss Viola, I would any time lay dow my life fer you, Judge, or ary one of de fambly."

"Well, you are a good boy, and," after handing him the paper, "now you can go to your friends at the quarters."

When the curtain was rung down on this scene, in a metaphorically sense, it rose on another of much interest.

The wedding party and guests were still sitting at the tables when honest David Hester, arising to his feet, said: "I move that we all drink a toast to our newly married friends, and that we drink it in pure cold water. Also, that John Larkin speak to the toast in behalf of the company." This motion was seconded by more than a dozen voices, the glasses were filled from the living spring, and the toast was drunk in the best liquid the world has ever seen.

John Larkin arose and said: "It gives me great pleasure to speak a few words on this happy and auspicious occasion. First, I wish to thank Judge and Madam LeMonde for the sumptuous repast they have provided for all who are present. (Loud applause all down the line.) Next, I desire to say some true words respecting our honored bridegroom. I have known Jasper Very for several years, and have been his colleague most of the time. I do not overstep the mark when I declare that he is the greatest preacher in Kentucky today. (Cries of "That's so," and applause.) He stands foursquare for righteousness seven days in the week. He is a terror to evil doers. It is by such men's work and sacrifices that we shall stamp out ruffianism, and lift our State to a high respect for law and order. (Clapping of hands.) His career is yet before him, and I believe his name will be handed down to coming generations as an eloquent, zealous, fearless, and successful preacher of the gospel. (Loud applause by the whole company.) My only ambition is that I may be his traveling companion in the ministry as long as possible, for he is to me an inspiration, a help, and, best of all, a devoted friend. (Cheers by all.)

"What shall I say concerning the lady who this day becomes his wife? He might have searched the State over, and not found so suitable a life companion. She was the originator of the mission school, and its prosperity is seen by the number of its members who are here today. (Much hand clapping by the people from the hills.) Yes, and she would not let the fear of highwaymen keep her from the straight path of duty. By an outlaw's bullet, she was brought to the verge of death, but God in mercy spared her in answer to our prayers. God surely intended her to be a preacher's wife. He gave her a voice to sing which melts the stony heart, he gave the opportunity for culture so that she can lift up the minds as well as the morals of the people. Her graciousness is surpassed only by her humility, and her beauty of face and form only by the loveliness and perfection of her spirit. To high and low she is the finest type of American womanhood." (Long continued applause, especially by the hill crowd.)

The after-dinner speeches were ended, and the bride and groom retired to their dressing-rooms in the mansion, where the wedding garments were taken off and traveling suits substituted. Soon they appeared on the front piazza, most of the invited guests still remaining on the lawn.

By a previous arrangement Mose was to be the honored driver of the carriage, to take them to the railway station. Never was there a prouder or happier negro. He showed the importance of his duty in every turn of his body. He was dressed in a new suit of clothes, and a tall silk hat ornamented his woolly head. He held his whip and lines like a master of horse.

Some fond good-byes, a few tears like April showers with the sun shining, a crack of the whip, and Velox and Prince are off on the happy journey.

So we leave them as with

"Two souls with but a single thought,
Two hearts to beat as one,"

they set out on their life work.

"We have heard that our hero became a mighty preacher, whose praise was in all the churches. His fields of labor widened with the years. His reputation went before him, and he was known in many States as an original and marvelous genius, but to us he will ever be remembered as The Kentucky Ranger.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Kentucky Ranger, by Edward T. Curnick